


quédate conmigo

by heyfrenchfreudiana



Series: In This World and the Next [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Plumber AU, cross posted on tumblr, hot people making horribly reckless choices, my shitty fanart, thank you rolling stone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana/pseuds/heyfrenchfreudiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An expansion on this:<br/><i>Natasha walked into the bathroom and choked on her water, the heat in her face rising. It had been an inconvenience, her shower clogging and flooding everywhere, and yet she was suddenly supremely thankful for faulty plumbing. The plumber, who had originally seemed like “a nice guy with an adorable smile” that she might think about fondly later, was crouched down by the drain. A low curse from his lips as he pulled out a wrench and she thought she could fairly echo the sentiment, what with the way his jeans hugged his ass.</i><br/>“This is going to take longer than I thought,” he said apologetically.<br/>Natasha touched her throat and smiled, already frantically trying to figure out how she’d get the chance to clean his pipes…</p>
            </blockquote>





	quédate conmigo

 

“Well, this is cliche,” he said as his fingers tapped out a message in some unknown morse code on her shoulder, sticky from the heat and all that they’d been doing.

Natasha laughed, her muscles sore and weak. “Are you complaining?”

“No way,” he said quickly, pulling her body against his tight and she shivered because even if they were laying on their clothes, there were enough slivers of cold tile to remind her that they hadn’t even made it to a bed. She laughed again, this time to herself, because it was a little cliche. This was her life now? She felt his breath on her neck and sighed. How would she even explain to anyone that she’d met him when he’d come over to fix her pipes? It was like the fake story for a low-budget porno, complete with obscene moans and body fluids and only missing the godawful music. 

How was she supposed to know, when she’d called the first plumbing service she could Google in a light panic. When her grandmothers’ wedding ring had slid down the drain, it was only a minor crisis because it was one of the very few things that Natasha even had of her family, of any proof that she belonged anywhere at all. She would have taken a hammer to the pipes herself if she wasn’t afraid she’d break the damn thing or make her ring slide away farther. 

God, from the minute she’d seen the plumber though. Normally a cool head during stress, she’d been a fumbling mess of cursing and apologies and unnecessary explanations.  _ M’name’s Steve _ , he’d said, lugging in his tools and so polite,  _ like she had nothing to be ashamed of, this happens all the time. _

_ (“Except this ring’s important, it’s all I have,” she’d stammered, flustered and flustered that she was flustered because Natasha Didn’t Get Flustered. _

_ “I understand,” he’d said, touching her arm gently. She looked into those blue eyes and exhaled.) _

It was a cliche, wasn’t it? Single woman, living alone, has half a bottle of merlot while the plumber is taking apart her sink in a shirt that holy hell is covered in holes, and it was the Merlot’s fault for the heat between her legs and her heart in her throat. 

_ (And the pipes’ fault, because if the pipes hadn’t burst, he wouldn’t have gotten that mess of a shirt wet, a fuck slipping from his lips just as she’d happened to walk in, Merlot in hand.) _

_ (“I’m wet,” he’d said, stupidly. _

_ “So am I,” she’d gulped, looking down and then back up and fuck, too much wine, too much wine, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He’d laughed, graciously.) _

“Stay,” she’d asked him after he’d fished out her ring.

“Stay, please,” she’d asked, standing close enough to pass her fingers over the holes and then over his shoulder. She knew what it looked like, suddenly didn’t care. His eyes went dark and he looked hungry, like he hadn’t been touched like that in… ever. 

“Stay,” she’d begged, pressing herself against him, feeling hard muscles against her and  _ oh it had been so long for her too _ , she whimpered and it wasn’t the Merlot. 

“Alright,” he answered, voice gravelly with need. 

(His mouth was hot on her throat as he pushed her against the wall and he slipped on the tile, just a little. She heard the clang of a wrench distantly and she moaned,  _ oh God, I am doing this, I am this person.  _  Her shaking hands scrambled for his belt and she realized she looked needy and desperate, not that it was a lie. 

“I should take this off…” he said when she’d slid her hands under that wet shirt and she bit her lip. Yes, that was logical.  _ Take it off, _ she figured, because she was only fucking the plumber, the logical thing was to make sure that he took his wet clothes off. And then her brain fizzled and popped because he’d made use of thick fingers to make sure that she was as wet as she’d said she was, her panties pulled aside. 

_ My, such a gentlemen _ , she thought, hitching her leg up around his waist. 

“Hurry,” she’d gave a weak order against his mouth, an order that was full of impatience and she knew she sounded like she was begging for it. He was hard, she could barely stand to feel him rut against her and her whole body sang. She  _ was  _ begging for it, Lord above. 

“Ma’am,” he whispered in her ear, earnest and just as needy as he bent her over the sink and filled her up. Her hand shot to her clit and she moaned, hair in her eyes and her body molding to his. Had she ever felt so full? Had she ever felt so hot, like her body was aflame from the inside out? When she glanced at herself in the mirror, she barely recognized who she saw.

A woman consumed, a woman in control, a woman on the verge in the best of all possible ways…

“My God, you are so perfect,” he told her and she fucked back against him, gripping the countertop, all the mementos of her ordinary life on display. The lavender-scented handsoap, the makeup remover, the tube of mascara and the little jar of night cream. She was getting beautifully and blissfully fucked in front of them all.)

“So let’s not make it a cliche,” she murmured, turning her head to kiss him. “Come back, let me make you dinner. Stay.”

And so he did.

 

 

 


End file.
